Philip did not understand what Oscar's coming portended till the older boy seized him violently by the shoulders.
"Why don't you hurry up?" he demanded. "Don't you know any better than to waste your time playing on the street?"
"I didn't waste any time. I couldn't get waited on at first."
"That's too thin! You were walking like a snail any way. I'll see if I can't make you stir your stumps a little faster."
Oscar pushed Philip so violently that the little fellow stumbled, and then came a catastrophe! He was thrown forward. The bottle came in contact with a stone, and of course broke, spilling the precious contents, as Nahum Sprague thought them.
"Now you've done it!" exclaimed Oscar. "I wouldn't be in your shoes, young man. Pa will flog you within an inch of your life."
"See what Philip has done, pa!" said Oscar, pointing to the broken bottle.
Nahum Sprague absolutely glared at the unfortunate boy. His throat was dry and parched, and his craving for whisky was almost painful in its intensity. And now to have the cup dashed from his lips! It would take time to get a fresh supply, not to count the additional cost. His wrath was kindled against the poor boy.
"What made you break the bottle, you young rascal?" he demanded harshly.
"I didn't mean to," answered Philip, pale with fright.